One warrior, taller and thinner than his companion, said, “It is as you supposed, Lord Barakas. There is a great trail formed by the gathering of many drakes and leading out of the other gateway. The gateway itself is far more battered than the one we entered by. I would have to say a great exodus occurred here.”

Barakas looked around to make certain the others had heard. His gaze fell for an extended time upon Sharissa.

“How long ago was this exodus?” Gerrod asked.

The second Tezerenee looked at his master, who nodded permission to him to reply to Gerrod’s question. “A week, we decided. A few traces are older, a few younger.”

“It started so soon…” Barakas studied the two scouts. “You saw no life.”

“More blood and the remains of a riding drake, my lord,” the first one responded. “It still wore part of a bridle. One of its own had killed it.”

One of its own or something just as savage? Sharissa wondered if the same thought was going through the mind of Barakas. Why would two riding drakes struggle? They were trained to work beside each other. It would take fear or bloodlust of unbelievable proportions to make them turn on each other.

“We have our answer, then,” the patriarch announced, turning so that he looked at everyone. “There was danger and people died, but the many trails indicate that the bulk of the clan has abandoned the citadel, choosing to go south, I suppose.”

“Why would they abandon this place?” Gerrod asked, ever, it seemed, seeking to estrange himself further from his progenitor. “Something must have made them. Where is it, Father? Where did it go? Not after them, I think. There is still something here. Can you not feel it?”

“I feel nothing.”

“So I have noticed.”

Barakas reached for his son, but the warlock was too swift. Sharissa came between them.

“Stop it! Lord Barakas, if the others rode off, we should follow them, not remain here and risk encountering trouble that might prove too great for us to handle!”

The patriarch cooled down. “Perhaps you are correct. Perhaps we should-” He broke off. “Alcia!”

“What about her?”

He looked at the sorceress as if perplexed she would ask such a thing. “She’s in the great hall!”

The rest of the party stirred, wondering how the lord of the Tezerenee could know that. Sharissa hesitated, then asked, “What makes you say that?”

“I heard her voice, of course!” Barakas looked at his companions as if they had all turned deaf. “She just called to us! She needs our assistance!”

Sharissa and the others stared at him.

“Bah! My ears are still good even if yours aren’t!” He turned away and started toward the building in which the great hall lay. Though they had not heard anything, three of his warriors followed close behind. The other two remained with the riding drakes. Sharissa’s companions looked to her, knowing that her oath bound them here.

“We could leave now,” suggested the elf. “There seems nothing to accomplish here, and I do not like the thought of following someone who imagines voices.”

Gerrod turned and stared after his father. “I thought I heard a sound like a voice…”

Sharissa frowned. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I made out nothing distinct. Certainly not my mother calling us! I think I’d recognize that!”

“I wish I could feel anything that made sense!” she muttered. Sighing, the spellcaster started after the vanished Tezerenee. “I think we’d better follow him.”

Something large hissed. Sharissa ignored it, thinking it merely one of their mounts, when Faunon put a hand on her shoulder and hurriedly whispered, “Sharissa! To your left!”

Staring out from the broken doorway of one of the nearby buildings, a savage-looking drake blinked at them. It was more than twice the size of the steeds, a true dragon. From the way it moved, it had just woken up. Reptilian eyes glared at the tiny figures and then at the suddenly apprehensive mounts. The two Tezerenee struggled to maintain control over the simple beasts.

“We rode right by that thing!” whispered Gerrod. “My father seems to have grown lax in his abilities as a warrior and a leader. He should have never-”

“Never mind that now!” Faunon touched the hilt of his sword, but then thought better of it. He glanced at the riding drakes, and Sharissa realized he was looking for a bow and quiver. There were at least three, but reaching them meant attracting the further attention of the waking horror.

With a hopeful smile on his face, the elf winked at her and took a step toward the mounts.

The dragon focused on him, growing more alert with each second.

“Go, elf!” urged Gerrod. “It will come for us soon enough! If the bow increases our odds, it will be worth it!”

As if the hooded Tezerenee’s words were its signal, the dragon broke through the wall, hissing as it struggled to drag its entire body through the gap it had made. Faunon rushed to the nearest bow and started removing it and the quiver from the shifting drake.

Sharissa knew that he would get only one shot off. She also knew that Faunon could have used his sorcerous abilities but feared that the repercussions, as he had hinted, might be worse than the attack. The sorceress, on the other hand, had no such qualms.

She raised her hand and repeated the spell she had cast on Lochivan.

Dust rose around the dragon. It roared, snapped at the particles flying about, and then shook its head.

A wild force struck Sharissa and sent her falling back. Gerrod only partly succeeded in stopping her fall. The hard earth jarred her and made it impossible to focus.

“It’s moving faster!” Gerrod roared. Through blurred eyes, she noticed his face strain with concentration, as if he sought to unleash a spell of his own despite his acknowledged aversion to the magic of this world. Behind them, the two sentries were shouting loudly, but she could not turn her head enough to see either them or Faunon.

A large, dark shape burst into her field of vision and raced to meet the charging leviathan head-on. Even with her vision watery, Sharissa recognized Darkhorse. “No!”

Weak from the teachings of Lord Barakas, the shadow steed was nearly little more than a true shadow. Yet, his presence could not be denied by the dragon, who moved to deal with this sudden rival.

“He will hold it, but for how long?” the warlock asked as he pulled Sharissa to her feet. “That thing struck back at you with power far greater than Lochivan’s, did it not?”

“Yes… that’s right.”

“As I feared.” She felt him stiffen and looked to see what bothered him so.

Another dragon, identical to the first, was climbing out of the ruins of an-other building behind the party.

“It is as if they were waiting for us to come!” Faunon, the quiver looped over him and the arrow already nocked, drew a bead on Darkhorse’s adversary. He let loose instantly, but the dragon, as if sensing the new assault, somehow twisted enough so that the arrow, destined for one of its eyes, bounced off thick scale. “Rheena!”

The riding drakes were beyond control. Several hissed at the coming monstrosities, making Sharissa wonder if it might not be better to let them loose. Surely a dozen of them could easily dispatch these two.

A third hiss told them that things might not be so simple after all.

They’re coming from everywhere! she realized.

There was a scream from where the Tezerenee had been struggling with their steeds. Gerrod suddenly pulled her to the side, toward the steps where Barakas had gone. Faunon followed almost instantly, nearly falling on her. A huge brown-green form dashed past her.

“The riding drakes have broken free!” she warned her companions needlessly.

“Much to the regret of all, especially the two poor fools my father left to hold them!” Gerrod rose, pulling the other two up with him. “One was trampled. I don’t know what happened to the other, but I know that was his scream!”

Around them, chaos was coming to full bloom. The freed drakes scattered, some running and some turning to fight the intruders.

More dragons were creeping out of the ruins.

“This is mad!” Gerrod coughed as the dust raised by one of the drakes floated about the trio. “How could we

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